The Meaning of Aoife
by Apollo Wings
Summary: A present for AlyssaCousland. A one-shot about the changing relationship of Anders and Aoife Hawke.


Author's note: Congratulations to all who get the joke of the title. Expect the same level of maturity throughout this one-shot. Dedicated to my dear friend, AlyssaCousland whom is a rock and a wonderful listener to all my rants. And also my self-proclaimed number 1 fan.

So this is for her. I hope she enjoys it, and whoever you are reading - I hope you do too. I've owed her this fic for a while.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns all but my soul. And as brevity is the soul of wit, without further ado, here is the story!

* * *

Aoife was a bitch.

Anders was certain of that much, the rest remained up in the air. The dusky skinned apostate haunted him day and night, just out of reach but close enough that he was sure he could smell the spicy tang of her skin and the fog of kohl smoke that seemed to enter the room before she did. It was the tangible manifestation of her magic.

For an apostate, she truly didn't care for mages. Not one bit. He should have hated her more for that, decided to cut all ties with her but every time he saw her that thought revised itself as _If only I can make her believe in my cause, then everyone will._

The blond healer swallowed his bile, feeling that basic magic caress his skin. There was something unique about the brand of magic she wielded, never trained to control it to the same standard as the circle nor the Wardens had been able to teach. It was instinctual magic rather than anything structured, it was hers and belonged to no other. It drove him crazy.

He even went as far to shield her magic with his own around templars. They knew he was a Warden, untouchable by the order. Ser Cullen had known him so that was enough. Anders abhorred the impulse he had to protect her though.

Her magic built up until he heard her enter the clinic, the uneven gait that belied a childhood injury that wasn't healed.

"You nearly killed a girl Anders." The healer threw his stack of manifestos to the desk, spinning angrily on the spot.

"And don't you think I don't know it?" He growled. Aoife raised a singular eyebrow, as if mocking him.

She wasn't the sort of person you'd look at twice, rather plain with dull black hair, a small upturned nose. But she had the deepest dark eyes, eyes that he found himself getting lost in the depths of. "Well Justice seems to value life as quite cheap. Remember who you're fighting for Anders. I won't say I would do the same but you're losing sight of your goal in madness."

Her words rocked him for a moment and Anders gaped like a codfish, a hand idly reaching up to his blond stubble to scratch himself into knowing he was awake. "What do you mean?"

Aoife baulked, as if it was a guarded secret she was having to spill. "I'm an apostate if you hadn't realised, I speak out and my own freedoms, my own impact on all injustices is gone. Change doesn't happen quickly and certainly not in my lifetime."

"It's opinions like that which means the injustice of the circles remains!" Anders felt at the end of his tether. "If we all stood up together we could overturn the templars without any problem!"

"Then where would the mages go?"

"They'd be free!"

"They don't know how to be free. You suddenly have freedom and you have no idea what to do, you have no skills for work, you risk your freedom. And do you slap them on the back and say 'Sorry for all those years of prison and taking your from your family, no hard feelings, enjoy having nothing!' People would sell you out for a pittance and it's not the powers that be you need to change, it's the people!" She set her jaw at him, as if daring him to contradict her.

"So you do support the cause?" Anders' mouth was agape for the second time in very little time.

"It's impossible for me to not support mage freedom in some way Anders. I just think the way you're going about it is all wrong. You're focusing on the circle instantly changing things, all you see is the dark and never the light. People are inherently corrupt, we see it every day on the streets and it's a tiny proportion of those we're up against that _are_ mages. We shouldn't be hated for the faults of all, it'd be like imprisoning all men because they have the ability to rape!"

His face split into a grin, just feeling her magic pulsing as her emotions flared. He'd never got her to share this in three years of indifference and hatred. All he'd ever wanted to do was take her face in his hands and kiss her senseless. Yet inside him a kernel of fear remained, that she could be taken away in a breath, that he shouldn't be allowed what others could never have.

"I won't stand on a podium and wax lyrical on the problems there are but I would have thought you'd know by now that the biggest changes are in people. You heal the needy, I help the defenceless, we change the viewpoint gradually until the people would never give up a mage child, would bar the templars from their villages. It's a slow revolution we'll never see completed but one day it will be how it should."

He wasn't even sure how it happened but one moment her eyes had become sad, the next he had pinned her against a supporting strut, greedily kissing Hawke, feeling her breathe by his hands splayed on her ribcage. The more shocking thing was how she kissed him back, melding against his body. She broke from him, a coy smile on those dark lips, plump from pressure.

"Finally."


End file.
